


Soul Marks

by lacepirate



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Don't copy to another site, FFH SPOILERS, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Not Beta Read, Rating May Change, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, discussions of morals and morality, dont @ me i dont know what im saying ever, far from home still happens, i hate that word, i'm also not calling it the blip, it's pretty dumb, more to be added - Freeform, peter is like 16 or 17 i think i'm not entirely sure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-11 20:20:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacepirate/pseuds/lacepirate
Summary: Some time has passed since everyone has returned safely, but it seems they've also gained something else.-In which, after everyone is starting to get settled, specific marks begin appearing on people, and it doesn't take very long to draw conclusions.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okaay, so I really really would absolutely love input on this, and if people are interested I'd love to continue?? Because I have not a great idea of where it's going yet, so any and all feedback is greatly appreciated!!

Nobody knows exactly when it started happening. They could never really pinpoint an exact time, though they try their damndest. Peter knew about some chatterings of people emerging with matching marks on their bodies (seemingly out of nowhere) right around the whole summer trip fiasco. While everyone (mainly the Avengers and all their super-friends) was still in recovery. 

After Peter dealt with Beck (by himself, thank you very much), what used to be murmerings had amped up to flat out screaming. Entire research divisions and corporations went up pretty much overnight.

Everyone was wondering what it all could have meant, and _nobody_ had an answer. Peter knew a lot of his classmates were running variations of betting rings, as well as social media accounts dedicated solely to speculation. 

Anyone who could have possibly come up with an answer was either unavailable, missing, or just _didn’t have one_. Nobody really wanted to nor felt it appropriate to get a hold of Thor or the Guardians. They tried talking to the remaining Asgardians, since they knew more of the universe than the rest of humans at that point, but they didn’t have any inkling either. Peter thinks that Dr. Strange knows something, since he was being awfully cryptic about most of the questions he was asked, but he figured it had something to do with history and events and all that, being if he told them then it wouldn’t happen or something or another. 

Though nobody knew exactly what they meant at first, it was relatively easy to draw the lines once they started appearing.

They called them Soul Marks. 

In some way or another, it seems that people were finding their missing half. Some people whom Peter grew up with in his class had matching Soul Marks.

Apparently once you knew, you knew, he was told. They said that it started out as a slight tingle where your mark was, which rapidly turned to an electric sensation which crawled its way across their bodies, until it settled itself in the centre of the chest. And apparently, that’s how they knew. Everyone experienced the same sensation. It didn’t matter if they were living in a small hut in Indonesia, or the highest high rise in New York; it’s all the same.

Peter still, even now, didn’t want to believe it, even though there was evidence constantly playing out in front of him. They almost seemed fake. Too crafted. Like tiny delicate tattoos. Peter recalled two kids from his class, Ben and James, had matching paw prints on the same place on each of their bodies. Talia and Alvin had matching butterflies. Some were more complex or detailed, like abstract geometric designs, or perhaps floral or botanical pieces. They all seemed to be generally the same size though, never going above 2 inches in diameter. Some were smaller than that, but never larger. The marks always had intricacies and delicacies that no tattoo artist in the world would have ever been able to pull off, no matter how talented or how experienced. 

Marks were still appearing on people too, at a steady rate, a few thousand a day at most. But there was a limitation that researches had found: nobody under the age of 16 seemed to have any yet. Besides that, there didn’t seem to be a lot of rhyme or reason to it. People quickly took to social media for their matching half. 

The day that Peter’s mark appeared, he had to keep himself from being visibly disappointed. It was one of the first things he saw, waking up, and trying to scrub the image of the Infinity stones from the back of his eyes (even 10 months later, the visual was still burned into his retinas). It wasn’t a revelation or anything, really. It was more like,

_Oh. That’s it?_

There, on his left palm, still blurry from the drowsiness in his eyes, an extremely simplistic outline of a circle, inside of another circle. And, _really? Because what fucking symbolism was that supposed to be?_ Peter laughed because honestly, the universe was just flipping him off at this point. 

But, that was hardly a blip on his daily radar. He still woke up as he normally did, making his way through the apartment to greet May, grabbing a cup of coffee (a bad habit picked up from MJ after taste testing the delicacies of Italy) from the still warm pot on the burner. 

He tells May,

“So, I got my Mark.”

May turns to him from the paper she was reading, sitting at the island, her face lit up in excitement.

“Really? Let me see!” She exclaims, jumping up from her seat. 

Peter laughs, 

“Don’t be disappointed, there’s nothing I can do about it,” and points his left hand, palm up at her, outstretched in front of him.

He has to pause for a moment to ponder, because _something_ rang a bell somewhere, but he can’t tell exactly why, and after a second of it not coming to him, he decides he needs to be more awake, and vows to dig for it later. 

“Oh,” and May makes a face.

Peter laughs, “I told you!”

“Well, while it’s pretty basic, I gotta say, it’s also pretty unique.” 

“Right? I don’t know if anyone’s gotten one on their palm yet, wouldn’t that be cool, to be the first?”

“You gotta send Happy a picture of it,” 

And _oh yeah_. That’s a thing now. Peter still cringes internally every time he recalls the exceedingly awkward Talk™ he had with them, when they showed him their matching Marks. They made the excuse of not wanting to tell him while he was on his trip, lest they add more things to think about while trying to deal with Mysterio. 

“Yeah, I-” Peter is cut off by the loud ringing of his phone weighing in his pocket. 

He slides it out, face up, so he can look at the caller ID. 

His whole world comes to a screeching halt for a few moments, before he has the good sense to shakily press the green button, staring for a second at the bolded _Pepper Potts_ on screen before pressing it up to his ear. 

“H-hello?”

_“Peter?”_

“Y-yes, Ms. Potts, it’s me,”

_“He woke up. And he’s asking to see you.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again!! warning for angst in this chapter, though it gets very sweet and fluffy towards the end, don't worry, I try not to have sour without sweet.
> 
> ps. I know that Tony used his right hand to snap with, but for the purpose of the story bc I already stated it was Peter's left hand and tbh I didnt want to go back to change it so pls forgive me

Another question on everyone’s minds was

_ what if you didn’t want your soulmate, or your soulmate didn’t want you? _

Like, what if someone got matched up with a serial killer? Or a rapist? Or a pedophile? Were you supposed to go on loving them no matter what, pretending like nothing was wrong? Dismiss it because of the fact that they’re your soulmate? Peter knew there were bound to be problems like that eventually, and probably going to be surfacing fairly soon, but it seemed that everyone was too excited to acknowledge those possibilities at the moment. At last, humanity finally had somewhat of an answer to existence, or so it seemed. 

And what’s to say about the people who are already married, and then find out that they’re not soulmates? Were they to continue being married, and ignore the possibility of a better match? What if one party wanted to ignore their Mark, and the other didn’t? 

Peter was constantly thinking way too critically of the entire scenario to have ever been excited about it. Come to think of it, some people may even see it as a burden, because what if they never met their soulmate? An entire life would be lived in sorrow and longing wondering what could be and never once enjoying something for what is. 

At first, it seemed to be that everyone was looking for an answer as to  _ why _ , why were certain people matched up? Why was it happening at all in the first place? But, when it became clear that nobody could possibly come up with an answer to them, they moved on to  _ how _ , and was still being examined. 

Peter was still really interested in the implications as a whole on how this would affect society from this point on, having many late night conversations with Ned and MJ, either video chatting, phone calls, or on the semi rare occasion they were all able to get together; and, it was relatively easier with MJ knowing about Peter’s Spiderman identity now, it was easier to speculate things when you were able to give the entire story and not just parts of it. 

MJ and Ned had asked him (at Peter’s discretion to retell the events that had happened) multiple times to see if maybe they missed anything important. They also shared their sides of the story as well, starting from the school bus when everyone saw the ‘space-donut’ appear in the sky above New York, up until the actual snap when everyone started to fade, and then returning to the exact same spot, five years later, as if nothing had changed for them. 

MJ had gotten her Mark before either Ned or himself, and when they asked about her nonchalance, she answered, 

“Why would anything change? I know most of the population is freaking out over it, but it wasn’t something I was concerned about before the snap, so it’s not going to be after. I’m not half of a person any more now than I was before, I am not half a soul to be completed, I’m whole on my own, thanks very much. The way I see it, maybe it’s like an optional thing, if you want to love and live with your soulmate in your life great, if not, so what? As far as we know, there’s no, like, emotional or spiritual _ pull _ before meeting them, so it’s not gonna be my life’s purpose to find them. I’m gonna live how I want to, and if it happens to be that I find them, awesome, if not, oh well.” 

Then, Ned had offered, “Maybe it’s like, an option to you? Like, what if we get to choose what that person means to us? Especially with the people who are already married and have kids and all that stuff, what if they get to choose that their love to them can be platonic? Or maybe polyamoric?”

Peter nodded along to that thought, Ned and MJ seemed to be on to something at the least.

It still (even 10 months later and regular therapy visits on the Avenger’s compound) was like a fresh wound; a gaping hole in Peter’s chest, throbbing and oozing at all sides. Not to mention the grief and heartache that was added when he was being tormented by Beck and scrutinized by Fury, when nobody actually knew if Mr. Stark was going to ever wake up again. 

Peter certainly didn’t think so. 

He could hear it. The heartbeat, fading, and quickly. Remembers trying to be pulled away by a pair of arms that he couldn’t identify, not when his vision was completely blurry with tears, and all of his senses focused on the dying man in front of him, as if he could will Mr. Stark’s heartbeat to come back and be stronger, pumping blood through his veins properly again. 

He would have given Mr. Stark his abilities, then. Thought about it and how exactly he would try and execute it, even. 

That’s really the only part that was muddled in his memory. He remembers screaming at the top of his lungs, crying harder than he thinks he ever has before, because  _ no, not again, the universe can’t possibly take  _ more  _ from me, he only just got back, how was he going to tell Mr. Stark how much he meant to him? He needed to know, he just needs more time, he needed more time -  _ and then at some point he became lucid again, with Mr. Rogers standing at his side trying to get his attention, and Sergeant Barnes holding him down, pinning his arms to his torso (because he was flailing, he was later told) with his ass firmly planted on the rubble. He kept mumbling  _ i’m sorry, i’m sorry,  _ into Sergeant Barnes’ shoulder, Mr. Rogers was stroking his head, and Peter never told them but he could hear the captain sniffling too, trying to desperately hold himself together for the sake of the younger ones with them. 

Peter visited Mr. Stark early on, when he was cleared for visitors (and after a psychological evaluation was done on Peter). For the first months, it was absolutely excruciating, to see his mentor, hooked up to tubes and wires that he stopped trying to make an effort to count. At first, he was hopeful, Mr. Stark had the best doctors in the world at his bedside 24/7. Dr. Banner and Dr. Strange were two of them, and some of the medical professionals of Asgard had even stepped up and offered their knowledge and expertise as best they could in a foreign space. 

They also told him, in a gentler way than he thinks back on it with, not to get his hopes up. They said that while his vitals seemed to be semi-stable, they didn’t have any idea as to the extent of the damage not only to his brain, but the lasting effects too. 

A few weeks after that revelation, Peter was used to carrying a water bottle with him around those floors of the medical wing, because his eyes would burn with the feeling of gritty desert sand, and his skin looked uncomfortably tight on his body from dehydration. 

Peter really admired Pepper for that. She looked to him as if she was holding it all together. She brought him water continuously when he was there, hours into the night, and wiping his face with a cool, damp cloth when he overexcited himself into dry-heaving into the toilet. He only ever saw a handful of tears escape when he was around her. She was such an incredible type of strong that Peter didn’t know if he would ever be able to come even close to. 

But on the weekends, Peter would stay at the compound, in the guest room designed just for him, sleeping but not really, his head pressed in his tear stained pillows, and with his (cursed) enhanced hearing, he would hear screaming and painful sobbing coming from the direction of Pepper’s room. Sometimes he could hear two hitching sobs (figuring out later that it was Colonel Rhodes), one muffed as she leaned into his shoulder. And if he saw red rimmed eyes and a chapped nose in the morning from his (again, cursed) enhanced sight, he didn’t say anything when Pepper offered him breakfast. He absentmindedly wondered why Pepper and Mr. Stark didn’t decide to have children in the time that half the earth was gone. Surely, she would be an absolutely wonderful mother. 

All the while, Peter started to lose hope. Mr. Stark’s numbers looked good on metaphorical paper, but they still weren’t able to work out the lasting damage, if there was going to be any. Even with all of the work they were putting into it, and all of the knowledge and the brightest minds they had, the Infinity stones were too ambiguous and elusive for them to come to any kind of conclusion. 

After nearly seven months, Peter had come to a tentative decision. With the help of the psychologists, Peter tried to (admittedly unhealthily) ram his way through the stages of grief, because the toll it was taking on his was too much. As much as he wanted to stay by Mr. Stark’s side every second of every day, hoping in some way to help, he did have a responsibility to New York, and crime rates had spiked again, since people realized that Spiderman wasn’t patrolling too often anymore. Not to mention his responsibility to school, and to May and his friends. He either had to stay and soak in his own grief, every minute of every day, by Mr. Stark’s side, which he knew he would disprove of, or finally pick himself up and start again. 

The last time he visited Mr. Stark was a little time before he left on his summer trip. 

A tense air seemed to hover around his head that day, walking into the compound. Without having to really say anything, the doctors in Mr. Stark’s room seemed to get the memo, vacating the room to give Peter his moments. Peter figured that someone had let it slip. 

He stood just inside the doorway, the actual doors closed behind him, unable to take his eyes off of Mr. Stark’s chest rising and falling with the hiss of the respirator. Slowly, he took steps forward to the seat on his left side, as if he would accidentally spook him. 

Mr. Stark’s left hand was still pretty much completely wrapped up, though while the bandages used to encase more of his chest, it had steadily lessened, and with the help of the Asgardians and their technology, some of the skin was close to being what Peter would consider healed. 

He outstretched his hand to lay over top of his mentor’s bandaged one. 

“Mr. Stark, I…” Peter trailed off. He didn’t think about how he was going to word anything, thought it would be better to let it come naturally.

“I’m  _ so sorry _ , I don’t -” He cut himself off that time, with a hearty sob ripping itself through his chest again. 

“Wow, I really didn’t think about this at all. I don’t really want to do this, but… there are a lot of people that are leaning on me to help. Most of the world thinks you’re dead to rights. The doctors have told me that too… how I shouldn’t get my hopes up because you probably… won’t wake up,” Another choked off sob.

“Everyone is asking who the next Iron Man is going to be. I don’t want it to be me, not that it could ever be. I can’t keep doing this because it feels like I’m trying to move a vibranium wall. And everyone: May, my friends, the psychologist, they all say that it’s not healthy for me to do it. I think everyone is a little worse for wear now; less optimistic than we used to be. I’m still going to come and visit you, it just won’t be as often,”  _ as I’d like it to be,  _ Peter adds in his head. 

“In just over a month it’s going to be summer, and I’m going with my school on a trip to Europe. I’ve always wanted to go. I’m going to visit you when I come back and tell you all about it. Of course, Ms. Potts is going to keep me posted, if anything should happen.

“New York is getting a little messy again, since Spiderman’s been absent since everybody was put back. And I really, really don’t want it to get any worse than it already is. That’s one of the reasons why May was able to convince me to cut back on the visits, I guess. One of the kids in my class told me that her uncle was mugged, and… it just hit too close to home. I can’t sit by and do nothing. 

“So, I guess this is goodbye for now… Until I get back from my trip, at least.” Peter didn’t need to be an outsider to hear the pure desperation in his voice screaming  _ please, I’m not ready for this responsibility, I can’t handle this by myself, please. _

He thought he was so ready to handle the entire world, single handedly, after the accords. He wanted to, he  _ begged  _ to. But now, having seen all the destruction and death and savagery, he really just wishes to be a normal teenager. Kind of wished that he never became Spiderman at all. 

Peter leaned forward, pressing his forehead to where their hands met, and whispered,

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I love you.” and Peter isn’t quite sure of how exactly he wanted that to sound, or even where it was coming from, but it clawed its way out from his subconscious somewhere nonetheless. 

With tears still in his eyes, running down his cheeks and staining his tee, he quickly stood and left the room, fearing that if he was to even glance back again, every step forward he just tried to take would all fall out from under him. 

He hugged and said goodbye to Pepper, begging her to let him know of  _ any  _ kind of update at all. 

And that was just before the trip. Before Beck and Mysterio came and crumbled what little stability he had managed to gain for himself. Before Fury asking him if he was good enough, twisting his metaphorical finger in an open bullet hole. 

It was all about three months ago. That was the last time he saw Mr. Stark, corded up and trapped in his hospital bed. He was still trying to build the courage to make the visit he said he would, all that time ago. 

And now, Pepper had just hung up the phone, telling him to come to the compound as soon as he was able. Peter  _ did  _ have school today, but he’d already pushed down the possibility of going. 

May stares at him, a growing concerned look on her face.

“Peter? Was that Pepper? What happened?”

Peter sniffles wetly, quickly wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. He ignores May for just a second, to open his texts, quickly finding Happy’s contact and asking him to pick him up just as quickly as he can shove himself into some clothes.

He turns to May,

“He woke up, May. Ms. Potts said he’s asked to see me,” 

May’s hand flies to her mouth to contain a happy sob, because she knows exactly what this means to Peter, and though she hadn’t seen that damage that it inflicted in person, she can begin to picture something from what Peter had told her, though she doesn't think she’ll ever be able to come close to understanding what seeing that must have felt like. She flings herself across the kitchen, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. 

Peter wants to cry some more for a moment, but he really doesn’t want to look like a hot mess going to see Mr. Stark, so he tries to steel himself and settles for a shaky sigh instead.

He knows that May isn’t offended when he lightly shuffles himself out of the hug to go get dressed. He’s not even thinking about what he’s putting on, not sure he’s even capable of seeing it to be honest, with the amount of pure unadulterated joy and relief flooding his system and overcoming every one of his senses. 

He’s pretty sure he’s less than adequate about brushing his teeth, and by the time he walks out of the bathroom, Happy is standing in the living room, hugging May, and both of them are crying joyfully in each other’s arms.

  
  
  


-

  
  


Peter feels tempted to tell Happy to floor it, but he knows that it’s going to be some time either way. They both asked May to come, but she insisted that it wasn’t her place. That while she does like Mr. Stark, she didn’t feel right, like it would be intruding. She said that she would wait for him to recover some more, and they both knew from experience that May had a mile wide stubborn streak. 

Peter was already a fairly fidgety person to begin with, what with all of his senses being constantly dialed up. He usually was able to drown some of the everyday stuff out with his earbuds, not necessarily listening to music, but using them to also dull the roar of the city. But now, being more anxious than he can ever remember being, he’s having a great deal of trouble. 

He still has earbuds in to drown out outer, unnecessary noise, though there wasn’t much to block out, just the extremely soft murmur of the radio, seeing as the engine didn’t actually make any sound. It’s nice, he wishes that more people would have electric cars, because it’d be nice to not have New York so overwhelming at times, but also maybe the air would be just that much clearer. 

He’s also drumming his fingers on his left leg, and bouncing his right leg so fast it’s pretty much a blur. 

“Jesus kid, you weren’t even this antsy when we were in Berlin, you doing okay, Peter?” 

He hears Happy talking, to his left in the driver’s seat, but he doesn’t turn his head to look at him, he just nods. 

“Peter, c’mon,” Happy starts.

He caves and looks at him. He can see in his face that he’s being sincere. They’ve definitely grown a lot closer since the summer, especially with him being around May so much. Peter really appreciates that he isn’t trying to barge his way into Peter’s life and make himself comfortable wherever; he’s letting Peter open up at his own pace, while showing him that he’s definitely not going anywhere any time soon, and that he can and will be there for support should he need it, but he believes in him and he also knows he’s strong enough to handle things (mostly) on his own. 

“I… don’t know. I don’t know why I’m so nervous, Happy. You’d think I’d be excited?”

Happy makes a face, like he knows something Peter doesn’t. He makes a mental note to roundabout back to that somehow.

“I guess… maybe I was wanting to accept saying goodbye? But now that I know it wasn’t, it brings up all these unresolved things that, like, I didn’t even know were there?

“And I don’t even know what it is! I know it’s something, but I don’t even have a name for it, and the harder I try to think about it, the more it moves away,” 

Peter scrubs his hands over his face, eyes burning again with the threat to spill tears. 

Happy hums for a moment, thinking to himself before continuing. 

“I know it all seems confusing now, and it might be for a while still - being the age you are, having all those pressures come to a head - but I know that you’ll sort it out, Peter. You’re too smart for your own good most of the time, you get too inside your head thinking about things.” 

“Why was that so cryptic?” Peter hesitantly smiles. 

Happy laughs back. “You might not get it now, but you will, trust me.” 

Peter doesn’t doubt it for a minute. Not after Beck, and the tulip field and London. He trusts Happy. Sighing again, Peter crosses his arms and leans his head against the car window, letting the vibrations of the window travel across his scalp, lulling him into calm while he watches the scenery whip past. 

  
  
  


By the time they reached the front doors of the compound, Peter was at war with himself - half of him wanted to feel scared and tentative, looking around every corner, as if this was a prize to be stolen from him, and the other half wanted to scream with happy anxiety and web his way up to the med bay just to get there a few minutes faster. 

Peter and Happy greet everyone on the way up, and everyone seems to be in an infinitely better mood than they were some months ago, the last time he was here. 

The elevator dinged, the doors opening, letting a gust of sterile air in that was an assault to the senses at best. Peter’s always  _ hated  _ the smell of hospitals, even before he got his powers. 

Happy stops him to talk to one of the newer doctors that’s been helping to ask questions, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from bouncing like a four year old who needed to pee. 

“How long has he been awake?”

“His brain activity perked yesterday morning, and with careful monitoring he woke up at around 5:00 yesterday evening, no memory loss reported yet. We have yet to determine any other damages that could have impacted other areas of his brain activity, like motor skills,”

“I do advise that you try to limit yourself for visiting time-” Peter turns his head and rolls his eyes.

“He hasn’t rested much throughout the night, and is still in need of more recuperation before doing anything for an extended period of time.” 

Happy thanks her, shaking her hand respectively. Peter really couldn’t care less at this point. He’s sure FRIDAY’s voice would cut in at some point, knowing he was very keyed up. 

The ten or so steps he has to take to get to the doorway feel like they’re moving in slow motion. Like the dreams where you know that you  _ can  _ run, but your body won’t let you; like moving through water. 

Happy looks at him and nods his reassurance towards Peter, before opening the door and gesturing for him to go in first. 

He hears the steady, healthy beeping of a heart-rate monitor, the very low volume of the news playing on the screen on the rightmost wall, directly across from the hospital bed. He sees Pepper sitting in the chair that he had last sat in when he was here, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her in anything but dress clothes, but she’s still just as beautiful, in yoga leggings and a tee shirt. He sees immediately that her eyes are rimmed red again, but this time he knows it’s okay. 

Mr. Stark is sitting up, the bed at a nearly 75 degree angle. His left hand all the way up to mid-bicep is still bandaged, but the skin that he can see looks stunningly better than the last time he saw it. He notices how strong and healthy his shoulder looks, the muscle mass had definitely shrunk, but Peter knows he’ll be able to build it back up again, carefully. The image of Mr. Stark sweaty with exertion wearing nothing but a black tank top, lifting weights flashes in his mind’s eye and he panics for half a second because  _ where the fuck did that come from? _

He finally lets himself look at his face. So  _ scruffy _ with an actual beard now, even though they kept his hygiene pretty tight while he was out. 

He sees a rare, genuine smile dancing on Mr. Stark’s lips, fully reaching his eyes and warming Peter’s insides with joy. 

“Hey, kid.”

Peter slaps his hand over his mouth because try as he might, this is still the moment where he loses his shit, and starts crying, even though he very pointedly didn’t want to look like a piping hot mess in front of Mr. Stark. 

“ _ Mr. Stark-”  _ He chokes out over a sob. 

Mr. Stark holds open his right arm, moving his head in a gesture as to say  _ come here, dumbass _ . 

Peter surges forward, all but falling into his mentor’s good arm and leaning into the good side of his body,  _ finally  _ feeling warmth curl itself around his back (still sobbing) and gasping into the space where his shoulder and neck meet. 

“ _ I missed you, Mr. Stark - _ ” Peter whispers.

“Me too, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so so so much to everyone who commented and left kudos!! it really keeps me going, so bless you. I love also getting prompts and suggestions and all that so pls don't be afraid to tell them to me!!
> 
> [main tumblr](thrki.tumblr.com)  
> [starker tumblr](ddystrk.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](twitter.com/ddystark)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!! let me know what you think, even if it's the most basic of things, it still fuels me and warms my heart. 
> 
> ps. [this](http://nextluxury.com/wp-content/uploads/mens-palms-two-circles-tattoo-ideas.jpg) is what I was picturing on Peter. Believe it or not, I actually thought of the idea of it first, and then went to pinterest to look at tattoos and stuff for inspo and that came up and it was kinda creepy ngl 
> 
> [main tumblr](thrki.tumblr.com)  
> [starker tumblr](ddystrk.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](twitter.com/ddystark)


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